


Heart Attack in Black Hair Dye

by mydemize



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Battery City, Enemies to Lovers, I just wanted to be safe, Juvie Halls, M/M, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), This is after Kobra Kid gets to the Zones so he and Jet Star aren't in this, This probably won't be all that violent, Trans Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), actually almost every character in this is trans, funpoison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydemize/pseuds/mydemize
Summary: Fun Ghoul was done with Battery City. He was done with being a Juvie Hall. He wanted out. When word got around to rival gang leader Party Poison, they decided they'd had enough as well, which meant they were going to tag along whether Ghoul wanted them to or not.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. We Could Live Forever if You've Got the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Kobra Kid and Jet Star are both already in the Zones, so they aren't going to be in this unless I write an epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul decides that he can't stay in Battery City any longer.

It never rained in Battery City. Better Living’s weather regulation system was too precise, and they never let it rain except for in the Lobby. But it got cold. God, did it get cold at night. It was a way of keeping citizens indoors past curfew. Never cold enough for people to die (Madam Director couldn’t begin to imagine the chaos frozen corpses in the streets would cause), but definitely cold enough to dissuade people from becoming Juvie Halls. Though, most Juvie Halls didn’t particularly care about the cold as much as they cared about their freedom, so it wasn't exactly an effective tactic.

The Juvie who cared the most about his freedom—and the least about the cold—was Party Poison. Their hair was the same shade of red as the fire that engulfed the Drac car they threw a Molotov cocktail in to assert themself as the leader of their gang. His voice and eyes both burned with all the passion and heat of that same blaze. Poison was a true firecracker, which is what his gang was known as. Everything about the Firecrackers was like their leader, all passion and fury and fire and red. They were known for setting fire to BL/ind buildings and constantly changing in numbers. The only consistent member was Poison. Poetic and fiery and inevitable, Molotov cocktail in hand.

The other thing the Firecrackers were known for was their explosive altercations with the Heart Attacks, a rival gang led by an equally explosive Juvie. His name was Fun Ghoul, and he was a master with a spray paint can and just as good with a lighter. The fires his crew set were more often lit with small homemade bombs rather than Molotovs, but they burned bright nonetheless. Ghoul had a darker presence than Poison, however. Long black hair, often covering his bad eye, dressed in more black than most Juvies would touch, and always grinning this infuriating grin that said “I know something you don’t, and I won’t tell you even if you beat the shit out of me.” He was small, and not very strong, but he was clever, and driven, and a real thorn in Poison’s side. If Party Poison was a lightning strike, Fun Ghoul was the thunder cloud.

It was one of those cold nights when Ghoul decided he wanted out. Huddled up with his gang under a single threadbare blanket, freezing cold and terrified an Exterminator could find them at any moment, just like every night. He was done with it. Sure the Zones were even colder at night than the City, and Dracs and Exterminators patrolled for Killjoys and the neutrals who were a bit too friendly with them, and you had other ‘joys to look out for, but it couldn’t be worse than this. It couldn’t be worse and he’d be more free.

The realization hit him like a ray gun blast to the gut. He wanted—no, needed—to get out. He didn’t sleep at all that night.

The morning after, he told the Heart Attacks, “I’m gettin’ outta here. You should come with me, but I don’t wanna force anyone,” with a heavy sigh.

“How’re ya gonna pull that off?” Sunny Revolver, a girl with her blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail and fringe on her teal jacket said, “you can’t just walk out of Battery City.”

Ghoul sighed again, “I know. We gotta either sneak out or go out with a bang.”

“Who said we were going with you?” Rocket Rose, the girl who towered over the rest of her crew even without her platform boots, demanded.

He shook his head, “I was hoping you would, but if you wanna stay behind, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Rocket's tiny older brother, Cyanide Candy, said “maybe we should go with him,” his sister shot him a look, “no, we should! It sucks here,” he kicked a pebble off to the side and mumbled something under his breath.

“Well, you can go get killed with our fearless leader I guess,” Sunny shouted.

The rest of the gang stared at her in shock, then looked around in silence, watching for Exterminators. When they were sure they weren’t about to be attacked, Ghoul hissed “what the fuck? Do you want us to get killed before we can even come up with a plan?”

Sunny’s face was bright red, and her brown eyes looked as if she might cry. “I don’t want you to get hurt! We got a good thing here! If we try to get out, we’ll throw it all away! For what? Colder nights, sandstorms, less food? It’s a terrible idea, even if we survive!”

“We?” Ghoul asked hopefully.

Sunny sighed. “If yer goin’, I’m comin’ with,” she said, defeat in her voice, “I don’t wanna be stuck here all on my own.”

“What about you guys?” he asked, eyes pleading.

Candy nodded, “we’re coming.”

“Says who?” Rocket demanded.

“Says me! We can’t survive if it’s just the two of us, an’ I hate it here anyway!” Candy’s voice increased in volume and speed as he spoke, making Ghoul nervous.

He shushed his friend when he heard footsteps coming close to the alley they were hiding in. They all pressed up against the wall, as they had done hundreds of times before, waiting for whoever it was to either move on, or not. So far, they’d been lucky, and everyone did. That luck was bound to run out at some point, and Fun Ghoul didn’t want to see the day he and his friends were killed or forced into those horrible Draculoid masks.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” he whispered once the footsteps trailed away and he felt safe enough to breathe again.

Rocket didn’t say anything. She just stared at him, but he knew she’d finally caved.

“Alright,” he said, “it’s settled. We’re leaving Battery City.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The Heart Attacks spent the rest of the day as they normally did—dumpster diving for food, hacking into vending machines for Plus and other things to sell on the black market, talking about how life would be so much better if they left—only today, they stole a couple rayguns from the machines and were talking more about when than if. It didn’t take long for something to go awry, however.

A little past noon while Rocket was fiddling with the settings on an out of service vending machine, Ghoul spied a flash of bright red hair—poison red hair to be exact—dart into the alley he’d been planning on claiming as a place to sleep that night. He got the attention of his friends and held his finger up to his lips. He jerked his head toward the alley and began walking over. His gang followed silently, makeshift weapons raised. Candy and Ghoul both gripped discarded metal pipes they’d stolen off BL/ind construction sights, Sunny and Rocket held glass bottles they’d shattered. Sure, they had rayguns now, but if they were fired within the city, their location would be broadcast to BL/ind headquarters.

When they approached the mouth of the alley, Ghoul saw an outdated droid, rusting away next to a dumpster. His heart broke a little, but he kept his grip tight on his pipe. It enraged him just to think about, but BL/ind would often use dead droids as bait for Juvies and other rebels in the City. It was beyond disrespectful, especially because they could easily just fix droids instead of branding them “outdated” and leaving them to die alone in alleys like this. He shook his anger out of his head and moved around the dumpster. He kept an eye on the droid, and gestured for Sunny and Candy to watch the alley’s entry points. Rocket and Ghoul crept around either side of the dumpster, and wedged themselves behind it, seeing as it was the only way to properly see if there was someone hiding there.

Without warning, Ghoul heard a shout, a short scuffle, and the sound of a pipe hitting concrete.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he dislodged himself. It was a messy, frantic movement, driven by fear, that took much longer than he would've liked. What he turned to see was admittedly better than if a Drac or Exterminator had shown up, but it was exactly what he'd feared.

Candy was standing stiff as a board with a small homemade shiv pressed against his throat and a shock of messy red hair over his shoulder.

“Let ‘im go, Poison,” Ghoul said slowly, trying to keep his cool. He could already feel his cheeks growing warm and his eyes wet with anger.

“Jus’ wanna talk,” Poison said, “don’t wanna hurt anybody.”

Ghoul thought his voice was more sincere than it usually sounded. There was no sneer on his lips like there normally was when the two of them spoke, no biting remark after his words. It was weird.

“Tell that to my neck, asshole,” Candy snapped.

Poison pressed the point of the shiv down against Candy’s throat, a silent “shut up.”

“Put down yer weapons so we can talk, and I’ll let ‘im go,” he demanded.

Ghoul whipped his head around when he heard glass shatter behind him. Rocket had dropped her bottle, her eyes wide and locked on Poison’s. She and Candy may have gotten on each other’s nerves like crazy, but he was still her big brother—she needed him to be okay.

He turned to Sunny. Her eyes darted from Ghoul to Poison and Candy to Rocket and back again, conflict etched into her face. He gestured for her to stand down, and she did. Crouching, she set her bottle on the ground, and Ghoul followed suit with his pipe.

“They did what you wanted, now let me go,” Candy said, his voice shaking slightly.

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” Poison growled, “I letcha go, you all charge me at once. Yer stayin’ right where yer at ‘til Ghoulie here listens ta what I gotta say.”

Ghoul stomped his foot, patience growing thin, “we had a deal, Poison!”

Poison said nothing, but prodded Candy’s neck with the shiv again, drawing out a droplet of blood and a small whimper of pain and fear.

“Okay, stop!” Ghoul raised his hands in surrender, “stop it! I’ll listen!”

Poison pulled the shiv back slightly, keeping it in contact with Candy's skin, but relieving the pressure. Candy started breathing again. “Good,” Poison said.

Ghoul relaxed slightly, only now making note of how Poison was all on their own, with no gang to back them up.

“Heard yer gettin out,” he commented. Word always did travel fast amongst the Juvie Halls of Battery City.

Ghoul floundered, but only for a moment. “And what of it?” he scoffed.

Poison adjusted the placement of his arm across Candy’s neck, as if bracing himself for what he had to say next. “Wanna come with ya.”

Ghoul said nothing. He couldn’t have heard them right. He couldn’t have. There was no way Party Poison wanted to get out, let alone get out with Fun Ghoul. They were basically a king here, with the way their gang was able to do whatever they wanted and get away with it.

“‘Scuse me?” Ghoul asked, genuinely not understanding what the fuck Poison had just said.

“Said I wanna come with.”

Ghoul stared at him. “What about your gang?” he inquired. He couldn’t just leave them behind, could he?

“Didn’t wanna come with me,” they shrugged, inadvertently pricking Candy’s neck again, making him flinch.

Ghoul didn’t know what to say. He stared at Poison for a time, contemplating, then turned to Rocket. She was fuming, hands clenched into fists, in a fighting stance, ready to charge at Poison the second he moved wrong. Then he turned to Sunny, who still had her hands stretched out as if trying to calm the fighting around her. Finally, he looked to Candy, whose face was contorted with fear

When he turned back to Poison, he’d made up his mind. Sure, it’d be an understatement to say he and Poison had a tense relationship, but another crew member meant an extra set of hands to carry supplies, and Poison was more than capable with makeshift weapons and hand-to-hand combat.

“All right,” Ghoul said, “come with us. But don't pull any shit!”

“What?” Rocket demanded, “so any motherfucker can just waltz in, threaten my brother, and join our crew?”

Ghoul shrugged. There wasn't much he could say. He could use all the help he can get, and if Poison was offering, he’d accept.

Poison looked at Rocket warily.

“She gonna hurt me if I let ‘im go?” he asked Ghoul.

“Gonna hurt you if you don’t,” Rocket replied, voice low and dark.

Ghoul stepped towards her, arms slightly raised in a plea for her to calm down.

“We need all the hands we can get,” he said gently, “need Candy’s hands. Need Poison’s hands if they’re willing.”

Rocket sighed and relaxed her stance.  
Poison lowered his shiv and the arm he had wrapped around Candy’s neck, and Candy dipped to the ground to retrieve his pipe before rushing over to Ghoul. He slipped behind his friend, rubbing his neck.

“So what’s the plan?” Poison asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms. The midday sun bounced off their crimson hair, making it almost dance like a real flame.

Ghoul thought for a moment. He didn't really have a plan. Just a goal. He shrugged, then opened the sack he was carrying to show Poison the guns the Heart Attacks had stolen earlier that day.

Eyes wide, Poison stepped slowly forward.

“How many?” he whispered.

“Just enough for the four of us. You'll have to use somethin’ else,”  
They nodded.

“I don't think we'll be able to sneak out,” Ghoul said, more to himself than anyone else, “we gotta go out with a bang.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sun was beginning to sink lower into the sky, and the day had reached the peak of its heat. Ghoul sat against the wall of the alley between Poison and the rusting droid, tinkering with a small device.

“There's a derby tonight,” Ghoul said, not breaking focus on his project, “stoppin’ that'll be BL/ind’s top priority. We can do whatever we need for a few hours while they're focused on that.”

He held up his creation, a small bomb, with a proud grin.  
Poison leaned in to get a closer look, but Ghoul pulled away with a glare and shoved the bomb into his sack.

“Mine,” he stated.

Poison raised his hands in mock surrender and leaned back against the wall.

“So, we got a plan or not?” Poison grumbled. His voice was stretched thin from impatience and the long silences that plagued him and his reluctant new allies.

“We have an idea,” Ghoul muttered, “and an idea of how to pull it off. But no, no plan.”

“Yer gonna get me killed,” Poison whined, tossing their arm over their face.

“Shut up,” Ghoul grumbled. He stood, swinging his arms slightly. Dirt clung to his ratty, worn-out jeans, and his hair was tousled in an almost charming way. Fun Ghoul could be pretty intimidating for a guy who stood at a grand total of five foot four (and a half!). He always wore platforms to give him a few extra inches, but they really didn't have much impact. He was still as ferocious when he wore shorter boots.

Dyed black hair hung in his face, all messily hacked off around jaw length, often hiding his lazy eye. He could hardly remember what color his hair had been before he started dying it, but his eyes were a striking shade of green.

He had relatively few piercings compared to some other Juvies (left eyebrow, tongue, left lobe twice, right lobe once, and an industrial in his right ear), but they were all topped with lime green acrylic beads that stood out against his skin and made his eyes pop.

Ghoul paced up and down the alley, talking to himself with his hands, working through a complex equation in his mind. Poison watched him carefully.

Suddenly, Ghoul’s face lit up and he froze in his tracks.

He turned and looked at Poison, with their stringy red hair and dark brown eyes. Round-faced and wide-eyed and dressed all in bright primary colors, he would have looked almost like a child if it weren't for his height, piercings, and the mean-spirited glare on his face. They were taller than Ghoul, even with his boots, and wider. Ghoul thought there was something charming about the way the neon city lights glinted off the silver rings in their lip, even if they were an insufferable prick.

“I have a plan!” Ghoul said.

He didn't tell Poison much, citing the fact that they could easily be a BL/ind spy, just that it would keep BL/ind busy long enough for them to simply walk out the front door.

To be fair, however, he didn't tell the rest of his crew either, much to Rocket’s chagrin.

“The fuck!” she hissed, “you're basically my brother! Why can't you tell me?”

Ghoul didn't really have much of an answer. He wanted it to be a surprise, and he didn't want BL/ind to be able to get their hands on his idea before it could be executed in its entirety. It was purely a precaution.

“How exactly do you expect us to help if we don't know what we're doing?” Rocket almost shouted when Ghoul remained silent.

Ghoul sighed, and thought for a moment. He didn't want to tell anyone, but if Rocket was going to keep throwing a fit, he might as well get her to shut up.

He gathered his crew, with the addition of Party Poison the (now former) Firecracker, against the wall and stood before them.

“Have you ever wondered what rain feels like?”


	2. I'm the Only Friend That Makes You Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul, Party Poison, and the Heart Attacks execute their plan to escape Battery City.

That night, when Ghoul and his crew were certain the roller derby had started on the other side of the slums, the four of them and Party Poison crept out of the alley they’d holed up in. Quiet as the night, Ghoul handed everyone but Poison a blaster and Poison prepared a Molotov cocktail.

The five of them strolled as confidently as they could down to the tower that housed the weather regulator. Seeing as it was after hours, all the human employees had been sent home, leaving a few droids to keep things running smoothly.

The group had already discussed the plan (the gist of which was mostly just “get in, blow shit up, get out, don't die,”) and didn't want to waste any time or breath on unnecessary chit chat. Rocket hacked her way through the front door, and the gang slipped inside.

The foyer was dark and cold, like most BL/ind buildings even during the day. Monitors and screens adorned the walls, black and shiny in the low light. The five Juvie Halls were awestruck by how stark and clean everything was. Not a speck of grime marred the white walls or floor except the stretch of tile behind them.

“Alright,” Poison whispered, taking the lead, “we need to find the control room.”

“Who put you in charge,” Ghoul glared over at him, but offered no differing order.

They crept around the first floor, huddled tightly together, ray guns raised and ready to fire. Eventually, they found a flight of stairs.

Ghoul led the way and Candy backed the group as they climbed the stairs. Every creak of wood or metal under their feet made their breath freeze in their chests and every time a droid whirred past the stairs in the hall, they readied themselves for death.

Somehow, they made it to the top floor without a hitch, however. Next, they had to find the room that housed the control center for the weather regulator. Ghoul knew that the second his bomb went off, the building would be crawling with Dracs and Exterminators, so he was hesitant to actually go through with his own plan.

Biting his lip as he shuffled down the corridor, he checked inside the windows of each room they passed. Silently, he prayed to Destroya, or the mysterious feathered woman who sometimes appeared in his dreams, or whoever else would listen for his crew to be okay. For his crew to walk out of this alive, even if he didn't. 

It didn't take all too long for him to find a small black and white plaque that simply read “weather,” in blocky capital letters. He gulped. This was it. This was the last moment he and his friends would be Juvie Halls. The second he detonated his bomb, they'd be classified as Killjoys, and be wanted by BL/ind for treason and terrorism. As Juvie Halls, they were extremely low on BL/ind’s priority list. As long as they kept their heads down and their noses clean, BL/ind only gave a shit about them if there was nothing else to give a shit about at the time. This would be the end of that partial immunity.

Fun Ghoul took a breath. He was ready, he told himself. He caught the attention of his gang and gestured to the door.  
In the matter of a single second, Ghoul had the door open, his bomb in one hand, his gun in the other, and his arm ready to throw. He stopped when he came face to face with a white-haired worker droid.

The two stared at each other, neither knowing what to do next. The next few moments were filled with the shrill shrieking of the droid sounding an alarm, a loud “fuck,” from Ghoul, and an explosion that took out the droid along with the rest of the room they'd been standing in. Then, silence.

Ghoul looked around, taking note of where everyone was, taking in their faces. Candy was pressed up against the wall, eyes clenched shut and chest rising and falling rapidly. Sunny was sprawled on the floor a few feet from the doorway, clutching her arm to her chest. Rocket was shouting something and tugging at Candy's arm, frantically looking over her shoulder. And Poison had their hand pressed firmly down on his shoulder. They were shouting as well, but Ghoul couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears.

“... go!” he heard, “we have to go! Now!”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As Ghoul and his friends ran through the rain, Sunny clutching her burned arm as she limped slightly behind the rest of the group, he laughed. He laughed so hard he almost cried. Rain drenched his hair and clothes, plastering them to his skin, and he gripped his gun tight. He felt alive. For the first time in his life, he felt really, truly, alive. Sure, he was certain he wouldn't be able to outrun the Draculoids and Exterminators chasing him, but he was with his friends, and they were all alive.

A ray gun blast shot past him, missing him by only a few inches. He spun around and fired a few blasts back at their pursuers, hitting one Drac in the shoulder. 

“They won't follow us once we're out of the City!” Poison shouted over the sound of gunfire and footfalls hitting the pavement.

Shouts commanding them to stop and surrender sounded from behind them, prompting them to run faster. Ghoul’s lungs burned, and he slowed down briefly to wrap a hand around Sunny’s uninjured wrist to tug her along behind him. Both her legs were fine, he thought, so why wasn’t she keeping up with the rest of the crew? She’d already given up her gun to Poison because she couldn’t shoot, so she needed to keep up. She had to. Ghoul wasn’t going to leave her behind.

Suddenly, Candy slipped on the wet pavement. Years of collecting oil with no rain to wash it away had made the ground slick. Poison and Rocket rushed back to help him up, but in the time it took him to stand, the Dracs and Exterminators had closed in. They weren’t surrounded, but there was no way they could outrun them any longer.

“Fuck,” Ghoul hissed. 

The Exterminator leading the group, a woman with unusually bright orange hair in a white motorcycle suit, smiled at them as they huddled together, slowly backing away.

“Come, now,” she said, her voice oozing faux sweetness, “if you give up now, I’m sure Madam Director will go easy on you.”

“Fuck you,” Ghoul said, and the woman’s face hardened.

“Get them,” she said.

The Dracs surged forward, Poison and Rocket fired off a few blasts before joining the rest of the gang in turning and running. Rocket hit a Drac square in the chest, and it fell to the ground in a hesp that tripped up one of its compatriots behind it. Candy gagged at the smell of burning flesh that filled the street around them.

Looking over his shoulder, Ghoul did a quick count of the Dracs behind them. They outnumbered his crew by a few, but not by many.

Before he could spin back around, he heard a shrill scream. Time slowed as he looked to his left to see Candy laying on the ground, firing his ray gun at the Dracs approaching him. Smoke and blood poured from a wound on his upper thigh, and his face was twisted in pain and concentration.

“Ghoul! Rocket!” he shouted, “get out of here!” 

“Not leaving you!” Rocket yelled back, doubling around to help her brother.

“Yes, you are!” 

Candy kept firing at the Dracs as they closed in on him, and Ghoul grabbed Rocket by the arm and spun her around just as a ray gun blast hit Candy in the shoulder, and then another between the eyes.

Rocket’s scream made Ghoul flinch, but he kept his hand firmly wrapped around her forearm and kept dragging her along behind him. They needed to keep moving. It didn’t matter that Candy was gone. Then it hit him.

Candy was gone. 

Candy was gone and he would still be here if he hadn’t agreed to go along with Ghoul’s stupid fucking plan to escape.

But he kept running.

He ran and he ran, dragging his screaming friend behind him. He ignored her cries of “we have to go back!” and “he could be fine!” He knew they had to keep moving.

In the heat of the moment, Ghoul didn’t notice the Dracs tackle Sunny to the ground until a pair of them had her pinned face down and handcuffed on the pavement. He threw her an apologetic look but kept running. He felt horrible. He felt like a selfish monster for dragging his friends into this. For getting Candy killed and Sunny arrested. But he couldn’t help either of them now.

“Get off me!” he heard her scream at the Dracs, “let me go! Ghoul, help me!”

But he couldn’t. He knew going back for her would be a losing fight that would get everyone else killed.

Ghoul felt sick. Candy was gone. Sunny’d been arrested. He hadn’t helped either of them. What would be next?

Ghoul and Rocket caught up to Poison, who was standing around the corner of a building, firing occasional blasts at the Dracs and the orange-haired Exterminator.

As soon as they rounded the corner and found themselves out of the immediate line of fire, Rocket decked Ghoul right across the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“What the fuck!” he shouted as he pulled himself up. 

“My brother is dead, motherfucker!” she screamed back at him, her tone accusatory, as if he’d pulled the trigger himself.

“He was my brother, too!” Ghoul snapped. The two of them might not have been related by blood, but they’d been living on the streets together for years and had a bond stronger than most actual siblings. Ghoul’s loss was just as painful as Rocket’s.

Rocket and Ghoul stared at each other in tense silence for a moment before Poison cleared his throat.

“We have to go,” they said.

Ghoul nodded, took a shot around the corner that hit a Drac in the leg, and turned back to his remaining friends.

“It’s about a three minute run out of the City,” he said, “once we’re out, they’ll stop chasing us for now, but we’ll have to keep running.”

Poison and Rocket both nodded.

“I think we can make it,” Poison said, “if we stop standing here and go now.”

“Okay, I get it,” Ghoul mumbled.

He took another shot around the corner, missed, and barely dodged out of the path of a blast from a Drac’s gun.

“Let’s go!”

The three of them took off down the street, all the joy they’d been feeling earlier gone, a somber, melancholy determination in its place.

With the City gates in sight, Ghoul felt a wave of relief wash over him. They were so close. He could taste freedom now, and he was sure it would ultimately be worth it. It had to be. God, it’d better be.

Just as the three of them reached the top of the stairs that lead to freedom, Rocket screamed again, and collapsed to the ground clutching her leg. 

“God damn it!” Ghoul hissed, face growing warm. He didn’t know if he could take another loss tonight.

He rushed over to Rocket, his mind screaming at him to just go. To just get out already. He dipped down and wrapped her arm over his shoulders and began dragging her along with him as they pushed towards the gate.

Poison ran over to them and covered their backs, firing off blast after blast at the Dracs closing in on them. 

When Rocket took another shot to the leg, however, she shoved herself away from Ghoul and fell to the ground. She shouted something about him and Poison getting out of there, that she was done-for.

Tears streaming down his face, Ghoul tried to pick her up, to nudge her along, to do anything to get her to just move. 

Poison caught Ghoul’s arms in his hands and began shoving him forward towards the gate.

“She’d never survive in the desert with those wounds,” they said, “and I won’t survive if I’m out there on my own.”

Ghoul struggled against Poison’s grip for a few moments, but stopped when they whispered “don’t make me go out there alone.”

Something in the way his voice cracked made Ghoul realize something. He wasn’t too sure what it was, but he thought it had something to do with the way Poison held himself and the way he spoke.

“Okay.”

The two of them ran together through the pouring rain, crying as they went. Ghoul didn’t look back. He didn’t see the group of Juvie Halls with bright colored hair and torn stockings and spiked bracelets swoop in and scoop up Rocket. He didn’t see them disappear into the rainy night with his friend safe in their arms.

He just ran.

He ran until he and Poison were out of Battery City and into Zone One, and only stopped when the gunfire was a distant memory.


	3. You're a Heart Attack in Black Hair Dye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul and Party Poison spend their first day in the Zones.

The desert was colder than the City at night. Coyotes chattered in the distance, and the gentle rain was a welcome change from the downpour they'd seen in the City.

Party Poison held Fun Ghoul’s hand tight as the two of them ran through the night with no idea of where they were going or when they could stop. The rain had made Poison’s hair dye bleed, staining their neck and shoulders a bright, bloody red that made Ghoul think of the way the ground had looked around Cyanide Candy’s body. He shuddered at the memory. He hadn't had time to properly mourn yet, and didn't want to think about his fallen friends until he had a moment to honor them correctly.

Eventually, they had to stop running. They simply couldn't keep going. Out of breath, the two of them collapsed to the damp, sandy ground. They lay there among the sage and sand for a few minutes in silence.

“We did it,” Poison muttered, “we're out.”

Ghoul replied with a sob. Everything that had happened—everything he'd lost—hit him at once. Candy was dead. Sunny was in BL/ind custody. Who knows what had happened to Rocket.

“I couldn't save them,” Ghoul cried into the night, “they're gone, and it's my fault!”

Poison stiffened. If this had been one of their old crew members, they would've known how to comfort him. But this was Fun Ghoul. This was his enemy up until just a few hours ago. They had no idea what to say. So they reached out.

He pulled Ghoul close into his arms and held him there.

The two of them lay there on the cold sand, Ghoul sobbing into Poison’s chest for longer than either of them would've liked to admit.

When Ghoul had cried enough, though, he doubted he'd ever cry enough for what had happened, he and Poison separated and sat up. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his black shirt and took a few deep breaths.

“It's not your fault, y’know,” Poison told him, “they chose to come with ya. They knew the risk.”

“Doesn't mean they wanted to come with. Rocket thought we should stay.”

Poison thought for a moment, running through what they could say in their head. 

“I can't imagine how horrible you must feel,” he said, “that's a huge loss. Must hurt.”

Ghoul let out another loud sob and pulled his knees up to his chest. “It does,” he said, “it hurts so much.”

As Ghoul’s sobs turned to wails, Poison pulled him close again. 

Ghoul gasped for air and clung to Poison’s jacket. He felt the world come crashing down around him. Everything was so much. They were gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. And he hadn't even tried to save them. 

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The next morning, Ghoul woke up with a sore throat and swollen eyes. His vision was blurry and he was unbearably hot. The sun beat down on him, and there was an uncomfortable scratching in his throat. God, he was thirsty. He tried to sit up, but found that he was still wrapped in Poison’s arms.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice scratchy and hoarse, “hey, Poison, wake up.”

Poison grumbled something unintelligible, but opened his eyes and let go of Ghoul. The two of them sat up and squinted against the sun.

“What's the plan now?” Ghoul said, “we're out. What do we do?”

“You really didn't plan this out, huh?”

Ghoul shook his head. He'd barely planned out how to actually escape the City, let alone what he'd do once he was out. He sniffled a little, not quite done feeling the intense sadness and anger he'd felt last night. He figured he wouldn't be done feeling that for quite some time, actually.

“Well, first things first,” Poison stood up, “we gotta get out of the sun.”

Ghoul got to his feet and a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him over again. He was definitely dehydrated.

“We need ta find water.”

Poison nodded in agreement, and the two of them set off in search of, well, anything.

Hours passed without a single sign of human life, and Ghoul was feeling ready to pass out and let the turkey vultures have him. It was hot. It was hot, and he had been running and crying all last night, and he hadn't had water in what felt like a century. He was sure he was done for.

When Ghoul thought he couldn't go on any longer and was moments from giving up, he noticed something on the horizon. A building, standing squat and alone in the distance.

He grabbed Poison’s arm and pointed to it.

“That a mirage?” he asked.

Poison shook their head, “I see it, too.”

Unable to run, the two of them shambled along, a newfound determination in their steps. 

It took a long while, but Poison and Ghoul eventually reached a small gas station. Outside the door was a vending machine stocked with bottles of soda and water.

Ghoul jogged up to the machine and pressed his hands to the glass, ogling the colorful oasis within.

“Move aside,” he heard from behind him.

Ghoul looked over his shoulder and stepped out of the way just in time for a rock to sail through the pane, taking out a couple racks worth of soda along with the window.

“Ya coulda waited fer me ta move, asshole.”

Poison shrugged and sauntered up to the vending machine. They grabbed a bottle full of a sugary, strawberry flavored liquid and a bottle of water, twisted the top off the water, and downed the whole thing in a matter of seconds. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, catching the drops dribbling down his chin, and tossed another bottle to Ghoul.

“Soda?” they asked, pulling out bottle after bottle of water to stuff into their bag.

Ghoul stared at them, dumbfounded by their sheer confidence, and a little mesmerized by the way their throat moved when they tipped their head back to drink.

“Lemon lime,” he told them, but not before chugging the entirety of his water.

Poison pulled a crudely fashioned bottle opener from his pocket and popped the tops off the sodas and collapsed to the ground, leaning comfortably against the side of the vending machine. They outstretched their arm and held out the bottle of lemon lime soda to Ghoul. Ghoul took it, took a sip, and hesitantly took a seat in the sand in front of Poison.

The two of them sat in silence, savoring their sodas. Ghoul couldn't help but notice the way the thin sheen of sweat on Poison’s forehead glistened in the sun, or the way their adams apple bobbed when they drank. He felt his cheeks warm up slightly, but blamed it on the sun beating down on him.

“What made you decide to leave?” Poison asked out of the blue.

Ghoul thought for a second, then said, “everything.”

Poison looked at him expectantly.

“I was sick of hiding,” he said after a pause, “I was sick of not knowing if I'd wake up in a Drac mask—or at all. What about you? Why are you out here with me? You left your whole gang behind!”

Poison shifted uncomfortably, as if he hadn't expected the conversation to turn back on him. They took a long swig of their soda.

“In the city,” he started, “you can't be free. Doesn't matter if ya stop takin’ the pills, if yer constantly on the run, BL/ind’s gotcha in their grip.”

“I get that,” Ghoul said before downing the last of his soda and getting up to grab a water from the shattered vending machine.

The two of them sat there, drinking water and soda and talking about the city for a good while before the sun started to get low in the sky.

“We can't sleep out here again. We got lucky last night. The cold or the coyotes shoulda got us,” Poison said. He stood up and examined the door of the gas station. It was locked, as expected, but they weren't going to let that stop them.

He fished the rock out of the vending machine—carefully avoiding the glass shards—and sent it crashing through the window on the door. Ghoul half expected an alarm to sound, but none did. Poison reached inside and unlocked the door, then stepped inside.

“Floor in here won't be as comfortable as the sand, but the temperature’ll be less awful an’ the coyotes won't get us.”

“Hey, I haven't slept inside a building in years,” Ghoul told them, “this might as well be a five-star hotel.”

Poison laughed. They threw their head back and this sharp bark of a “HA!” rang out through the gas station.

Ghoul grinned at him, a warm feeling swimming in his stomach. He felt at ease for the first time in his life. Sure, guilt and sorrow were eating away at his heart, and he was concerned about what they would do for food and drinks after they depleted what was in the gas station, but for once, he wasn't scared. He had no idea what the future would bring, but he was excited to see it.


End file.
